The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

AN: Hi.You probably don't know me.And that's okay.This is a fic based around the
classical piece “Reverie” by Debussy.Look it up on Youtube if you don't know it.
It's lovely. (:

Um. It's Ryden. So if you don't like that… go away. xD

disclaimer~ I don't own Panic! At the Disco. AND NEITHER DO YOU.

--x

There's a place in everyone's mind where dreams suddenly become realities, and reality fades away
like the night sky at dawn. It's always been the birth of many things, from inspiration all the way
to insanity. Sometimes it's just an insignificant aspect of life; sometimes it can control life as
we know it.

Brendon likes to go there sometimes.

For him, it's calming and inspiring sometimes. Other times it's sickening and horrid.

And sometimes it's everything rolled into one.

Well, that's what it is now.

He's fallen into a black, tranquil world, Alice-in-Wonderland style, things and memories passing by
every so often. When he lands on the nothingness, he lies down serenely, stretching his arms out
across it. He smiles faintly as the colorless world relieves him of reality.

This is when things get strange.

The blackness quickly melts to color, startling Brendon. His dark eyebrows knit together in
confusion as the world and the relaxation shift and distort.

It's suddenly a bright, beautiful, endless field, filled with sunny yellow daffodils, purple
wildflowers, and many other flowers creating a giant rainbow. The sky is a periwinkle blue,
completely cloudless. The sun shines brightly on the brunette. Still, even among all of this
beauty, Brendon can't seem to get rid of his confusion. What is this? A fantasy? Reality?
Insanity?

In his view is the silhouette of another boy, staring contently at the pretty flowers and humming a
beautiful, haunting melody.

Brendon blinks at the boy. He stands and walks over, the blinding sun warm on his pale skin.

The boy notices, and he looks up, the humming ceasing immediately. Then, slowly, he smiles.
“Brendon,” he says, his voice light and airy.

It's Ryan Ross.

Brendon can hardly contain his excitement. “Ryan!” he exclaims, the grin on his face
as big as the field itself. His darn brown eyes are wild with enthusiasm.

Ryan giggles. Brendon glows.

They throw there arms around each other, holding each other close. Brendon closes his eyes for
just a fraction of a moment, just holding Ryan. He loves him. He really, really loves him.

They let go, and next thing Brendon knows, they're sitting on the ground, smiling at each other,
occasionally holding each others hands.

Brendon smiles as he admires Ryan. He loves the way the sun glints on Ryan's
carefully-arranged-mess of molasses-colored hair. He loves the way Ryan blinks those honey-colored
eyes at him. He loves the way Ryan's lips curve into a beautiful, contagious smile.

He loves Ryan.

Ryan gives him that infectious smile again, and Brendon's heart patters in delight.

Suddenly, something catches Brendon's eye - a little black and yellow dot, buzzing by Ryan's head
to a nearby daffodil.

A bumblebee.

Brendon giggles at the silly little insect. Ryan starts to laugh, too, until they're both
laughing, trying so hard to catch their breath and composure.

Brendon's fingers inch over to Ryan's again, and they entangle. They gaze sweetly at one another.

Suddenly, Brendon feels something wet land on his forearm.

A raindrop.

Brendon overreacts slightly, looking up at Ryan, panicked. Ryan is a mirror image, sharing that
same sense of urgency.

Another raindrop.

Brendon's confused, because there hadn't been a cloud in the sky at first, and suddenly the sky is
a dark grey. It's sort of scary, the way that the sky is so dark, and Ryan's looking at him with a
horrified glint in his eye, and all of the happiness is just disappearing by the second.

Bam.

It's suddenly pouring, and Brendon's on the ground, coughing up sobs. Ryan's gone. He's
disappeared, and the world is dark and cold and wet and all just really depressing.

Brendon blinks back random tears, watching the rain soak his skin. It's almost as if the rain is a
barrier, a mishap, some sort of fracture. A broken heart, perhaps. It's tragic somehow.

The rain continues to fall, causing mixed emotions all around.

And then, somehow, it stops.

Brendon's crying stops, the rain stops. It all just ends.

All Brendon can see now is Ryan's face staring back at him, loving him, mending the rain barrier.
It's really beautiful, especially the occasional shy smile that makes Brendon's heart skip a beat of
two.

Ryan's talking about something, and the way his voice echoes in Brendon's head is lovely. Brendon
couldn't ask for anymore.

And finally, as consciousness transforms into “reality,” Ryan says something, once
again with that sweet, delicate smile.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Brendon blinks, his mind far from anything else but that moment.

Then, it's actual reality.

Brendon wakes up to an empty home and a lonely bed. His unconscious made up lies to keep him
happy. Ryan doesn't really look at him like that. Ryan doesn't really love him like that; that was
all a lie.

Yet, for some odd reason, that doesn't upset Brendon.

Granted, his mind is only kind of there at the moment, but somehow every part of him understands
the words he mumbles:

“Well, a few more lies and a few more moments with him won't hurt.”

A relapse, if you will.

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.